The witch is dead
Let’s shave her head
And make a broom with her hair
And every time
The clock strikes nine
We’ll sweep the whole town square
The witch is dead
Let’s shave her head
And make a broom with her hair
And every time
The clock strikes nine
We’ll sweep the whole town square
Old Mother Hubbard
Sat in her cupboard
Eating her curds and whey
She fell down
And broke her crown
And the dish and the spoon ran away